We need not say that it was a touching plea—but the emperor seemed unmoved, and positively refused to grant the request. He insisted that the count’s crime was one of the highest nature, and it was indispensable that he should receive a signal punishment. “His fate is sealed,” said Nicholas, firmly, “and it shall be executed to-morrow. I hope, fair lady, if you do not approve my mercy, you will at least acknowledge my justice.”
Baffled and broken-hearted, the princess left the stern monarch, and sought her room. On the morrow, Zinski was taken to the castle of St. Petersburgh, and preparations for his execution seemed to be immediately set on foot. In vain was the petition of Lodoiska: in vain the representations and the prayers of the captain of the Czarina. When Alexis came, and delivered the message of Zinski, Nicholas seemed to feel a touch of emotion; but it appeared to pass immediately away.
About four o’clock in the afternoon of the day fixed for the count’s execution, there was a heavy sound of musketry in the court of the castle, then a dead silence, and finally a gate was opened, and a coach, briskly drawn, issued forth, wending its way to the palace of the emperor. A man of a noble form, and still youthful, issued from the coach, and was conducted to the audience room of the Czar.
There stood Nicholas—a man of great height, and vast breadth of shoulder, as if he had been made as the very model of strength: at the same time, his countenance, lighted up by a full blue eye, expressed, amid a lofty and somewhat stern look, an aspect almost of gentleness. By his side was the princess Lodoiska.
The stranger entered the hall, and proceeding toward the emperor, was about to kneel. “Nay, count Zinski,” said his majesty, “we will not have that ceremony to-day. You have been shot, and that is enough. I owe you my life, count, and I am glad of being able to testify my gratitude. I sentenced you to Siberia, expecting that you would petition for reprieve; but you were too proud. I have long mourned over your stubbornness. Your return has given me pleasure, though I could have wished that it had been in some other way. I could not overlook your crime, so I ordered you to be shot—but with blank cartridges. And now, count, what can I do for you?”
“One thing, sire, and but one.”
“What is it?—you shall have your wish.”
“The restoration of Pultova and his family.”
“It cannot be—it cannot be! The rebel has just returned from Tobolsk, like yourself.”
“Then, sire, let him be like me—forgiven.”